Never a Spy
by The Awkward One
Summary: Neal one day meets a woman who tells him she needs help reaching George Cooper with information about the Scanran war. In his time helping her, he discovers, sadly, that he may not be cut out for spy work.
1. What a Stupid Name for a Berry

**My one and only disclaimer: Tamora Pierce created the Tortallan world, not I. I only hope that one day, I can do something as noble on my own and without stealing.**

Cutting up sanguine berries is possibly one of the most boring jobs in the world, Neal decided. One might want to chalk it up there with math homework, and archery, but after the second hour of chopping the succulent fruits, he had realized that at least those things required some semblance of thought.

It also amazed him how many times one can come to the same conclusion about something. For instance, every time he tried carrots again, he concluded that they were the brainchild of some maniacal mage somewhere who had somehow found a way to combine wood shavings, paint chips, pig manure, banana peel, and gelatin in a crunchy, seemingly food-like shell.

Every time he had to slice sanguine berries, he found himself remembering how horribly boring and wet of a job it was this time and the last time and all the times before that.

But the berries were an important ingredient in many different potions, at least, their juice was. And when one is the sole person working in an empty infirmary, and there are a couple of buckets of sanguine berries waiting in the storage closet, the task one might be forced to do might not be the most favored.

Neal scowled. Maybe there was more than one reason that his father had chosen to accompany King Jonathon to the Scanran border. Sure, there was a war going on and all, and of course the king should have the best healers near his side on the battlefield, but Duke Baird could not have neglected to notice the number of buckets building up in the storage cupboard, nor forgotten the last time he himself had braved the task of cutting the bloody berries. No, there was the stench of conspiracy in the air, almost as pungent as the smell of the berries' thick, dark, red juice.

After another half hour of working at his task, Neal began to hum a little song to himself, but he didn't care that much because it did help to pass the time, even if Kel didn't believe it. Besides, no one had to hear it here.

Then the infirmary door opened. The humming caught in his throat and he remembered all the time he had come out of the bath to hear his father tell him to be sure to study hard, for a minstrel he was not.

He spun around to face the entrance, hand covering his mouth to ensure that no more eager notes could come tumbling out. Neal noted that the newcomer was female and looked slightly confused before he became aware of the cold and rather slimy berry juice dripping from his stained fingers onto his chin. He spun back around.

Only once he found a towel and carefully wiped his mouth did he remember to speak to the lady.

Turning around once more, Neal smiled in a rather pained way, as he had just discovered that sanguine berry juice tastes rather like carrots but without the woodchips and paint, and that whoever had named the berries was an idiot. Then he asked, "Are you all right, madam?"

"Uh, yes, um…" she paused. Neal noticed that her voice was rather ragged, as though it hadn't been recently used, although it sounded vaguely familiar. There was also a similarity in her nose and mouth that reminded him of someone he couldn't quite place.

"Um, m'am, this is the infirmary. Do you need something in particular?" He was curious. She didn't seem to be hurt, which was usually the reason why people came to see healers.

"Rather, some_one_," she corrected him. "Is Duke Baird around? I need to speak with him."

"Ah, no." He stopped there. Something was strange about this woman, and he didn't feel that she needed to know where his father and King Jonathon were. But he did feel a twinge of pity for her; she looked so lost and still so familiar. So he added, "I'll give him a message, though, when he gets back."

She shook her head. "I couldn't impose."

"No problem, madam, really," he assured her. "Whatever it is, I'm sure my father will want to help."

Neal winced, realizing what he had just admitted to this stranger. He had implied that his father would be the poor man's aid in all kinds of deeds, nefarious or otherwise. Now the unfortunate duke would be tailed by all sorts of shady people wanting his help with assassinations, plots of war, kidnap, and even vegetable harvesting! And Neal had, at one point, aspired to become a spy. Although perhaps, this lady would spill her whole dirty story and he could turn her over to the law.

And drat, he had also revealed his identity as the duke's son. There was another drawback. Still, it was a surprise when she reached out and grabbed his red-violet fingered hand and exclaimed, "Nealan?"

"Er, yes." There was no point in denying it now. His spy career, down the chamber pot.

"Nealan, can you help me?" she pleaded with him, eyes alight and hopeful.

He pulled out of her grasp and shook his hand to get the blood flowing back to his fingers. "I don't think-"

She snatched his other wrist. "Nealan, I need your help? Can we talk somewhere privately?"

Neal sighed. Obviously, if he said no, he'd still have to try and live life with a half-crazed woman clinging to his right arm, and that would make horse-riding, doing arithmetic, sword play and eating difficult.

"Let's go to the office, there, then."


	2. Math Class Can Always Wait

Neal sat the woman down in one of those hard, wooden seats that put thin slats in it's occupant's back every time you lean into it. It was his own way of getting back at her for interrupting his life. Although he couldn't really fault her for putting an end to his dreary slicing of sanguine berries.

Once they were both settled in their chairs, Neal in his father's cushioned one, she began her story with, "Nealan, I never thought I would meet you."

"Nor I you," he said truthfully, wanting to add something along the lines of, 'I have no clue who you are', but thinking it might be rude and perhaps slightly obvious.

He was right. She caught the drift of what he was saying, and seemed embarrasses enough about forgetting to introduce herself to him that he found himself forgiving her a little and feeling kind of mean about the chair. "My name is Mina."

A funny tingling ran down Neal's spine. He started to get a flashback of the time when he was seven, but he quickly pushed it away to think about later. Now was not the right time. Still, he knew what he was starting to think, and decided it couldn't hurt to ask, "Is that a nickname?"

A look of amused puzzlement played across Mina's face. "Yes. It's Lemina. Is that really important?"

"No. Yes. I like to be called Neal." He cursed himself. It could hurt to ask, apparently, because now he looked like an idiot. He had hoped to appear cool, calculating, sharp, and aloof. Someone had once written that it was always a good idea to keep the other fellow in awe of you. Neal had been planning on following that advice, but now that was scratched. Were spies ever allowed to look like fools? Probably not.

"Alright then, Neal," Mina smiled at him briefly. "I need to speak with the Baron George Cooper."

Neal stuck up his index finger to come up with a good reason why she could be denied seeing the unofficial spymaster. Most people didn't know that he, not Myles of Olau, was in charge of Tortall's intelligence. But whenever someone asked about the Baron, everyone worried that another country had found out.

"He should be at Pirate's Swoop, right?" She continued, disregarding the pointed digit and lowering her voice to a whisper. "I have information for him."

There was another problem. As far as Neal's understanding extended, about the same as his stationary finger, but presumably farther that this foreigner's, George was currently stationed closer to the Scanran border and the king. But this was another piece of information he did not and didn't want to have the right to disclose to strangely dressed, strangely familiar, foreign females.

Seeing his badly concealed inner turmoil, Mina added, "About the war."

That was it. He couldn't decide that the information she had wasn't utterly crucial for George to hear. So he would have to help her reach him.

"I'll tell Lord Wyldon that you're here," Neal decided, wondering why she hadn't just gone to him in the first place. Or to Pirate's Swoop, for that matter.

She had a stricken, pale expression her face. "No! You can't tell anyone! My information is for George Cooper alone! If they find out I'm here…"

Something about the look in her green eyes told him that at least this much of her story was true. But Neal didn't want to just reveal the spymasters location to an alien during a time of war.

Well, tomorrow's math class could wait.


End file.
